Friday, December 23, 2016

A wildland firefighter -- and mountain lion
shifter -- Edward is the youngest of the Stanton siblings, and hasn't touched a
woman in a decade, not since his late fiancée was killed in a violent tragedy.

But when he meets the sweet, adorable Molly
Sloan, a friend of his new sister-in-law, Lilah... his determination to remain
celibate begins to unravel.

Something about Molly is irresistible.
Something about her makes him forget the past... and hear the Beat. But Edward
will have to fight for her -- forces are gathering to use her in ways that
might separate them forever.

The
Billionaire Shifter's Second Chance is the third
book in the Billionaire Shifters Club series by Diana Seere, the paranormal pen
name for two New York Times and USA Today bestselling romantic comedy
authors. This book is a standalone *within* a series.

* * *

Welcome to the most exclusive club in the
world. The Novo Club. Novo is Latin for “change.” Our members prefer the word
“shift” though.

It’s the hottest club in town.

The price of membership is your heart and
your secrecy.

All you need to do to join is to be loved
beyond your wildest imagination by someone powerful with an…alpha side so
primal it’s in their blood.

Are you ready?

Good. Then let’s begin.

The
Billionaire Shifters Club is a new series featuring the five Stanton siblings,
four brothers and one sister who are all part of an ancient shifter family
living in modern America. The subterranean club-within-a-club beneath the
streets of Boston, Massachusetts holds secrets only the Stantons and their
fellow shifters know.

Diana Seere was raised by wolves in the
forests outside Boston and San Francisco. The only time she spends in packs
these days is at romance writing conventions. In truth, Diana is two New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors who decided to write shifter romance
and have more fun. You can find “her” on Facebook at Diana Seere’s Facebook
Page: http://www.facebook.com/dianaseere.
Sign up for her New Releases and Sales email newsletter here:
eepurl.com/beUZnr

Excerpt:

“Why are you so twitchy?” Sophia asked.

The art exhibit for their brother’s
paintings was quite lovely, but Edward Stanton was beginning to deeply regret
being a supportive sibling. Leaving his home in Montana, where the air smelled
like freedom and people didn’t glare – because there were so few actual people
– and coming to this festering hellhole called Boston gave him good reason to
twitch.

His sister’s words made him groan inwardly,
though. If he told her the truth, she would belittle him. If he lied, she would
smell it on him.

Of course she would. She was a bear shifter,
with a nose most vintners would kill to possess. Sophia could smell emotions.
She could sniff out subterfuge and intrigue, sex and anger. He was certain she
could smell lottery ticket winners, if she tried.

Not that a billionaire heiress would need
such a skill.

Edward steeled himself, wishing he could
hide scent the way he had trained himself to hide emotion. Even shifters had
limits, sadly.

“I’m tired. The jet seats weren’t
comfortable,” he lied. A powerful hum from some sort of heating and cooling
system kicked in, making his back teeth rattle. How much longer must he stay to
be polite? The city was full of too many unexpected vibrations and jolts,
sounds like jeers and mockery. His head began to throb, a steady beat taking
over.

Sophia rolled her eyes and took a small
pastry from a tray as a server passed by, stuffing it in her mouth. “You are
the worst liar ever. Didn’t you learn a thing from Derry? You would never guess
you’re brothers.”

Half brothers, he thought. Of the five
Stanton children, Edward was the only one without a full sibling. He was also
the only mountain lion shifter. He needed to roam. Desired space.

Craved land.

Downtown Boston, at an art gallery packed
into a gentrified district where people lived in apartments the size of
thumbnails, was the absolute opposite of what he wanted right now.

But they were here to support Derry in his
art, and by God, he would fake his way through this.

Even if Derry just ditched them to reunite
with his human mate, the limo speeding them off to Derry’s loft, leaving his
cheerleading squad stuck in this gallery, eating overcooked rumaki and
pretending to enjoy the other exhibits.

“I know you hate the city,” Sophia said, her
voice dropping into a compassionate whisper. “But that was years ago, a random
tragedy. We can help you. It’s sweet of you to come here for Derry.”

Edward’s body went cold. He didn’t want to
talk about the past. And he certainly did not want to talk about the last time
he was in Boston.

“Okay,” I concede. “You win. Why me? Why are
you doing this?” It takes so much control not to cry, or whine. The slight
shake in my voice is pretty damn understandable, given the circumstances. Every
muscle I have, including my lungs, keeps tightening, as if making them smaller
will make me less likely to be hurt.

Not possible.

John shrugs.Shrugs.

“It’s nothing
personal.”

I cough, choking
on a universe-sized dose of incredulity. Nothing personal? This isnothing personal? A thousand
responses flood my mind but I’m not rational, so none of them come out.

“Don’t you have a
game or something? I thought baseball players didn’t get days off during the
season.”

He pretends his
shoulder hurts, rubbing it while pursing his lips in a pretend pout. “Perfectly-timed
injury,” he says, adding a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “I have three days
with nothing to do.” He leans in, his hand stroking my jaw. I close my eyes but
don’t jerk away. “I get to doyou,”
he whispers, his breath filled with moisture, like he’s licking my face
although it’s just air.

People do whatever
it takes not to be in hell. We have a biological drive to survive. It goes
beyond the body.

Speaking of the
body, I remember the microchip. A whimper comes out of my nose. Tears fill the
back of my throat, hot and salty, thickening. I nearly gag but control myself,
a sob trying to work its way out.

The helicopter
cuts a sharp right, angling down, and because they didn’t buckle me in, I roll
into the door. John thumps against me, his hip digging into my butt. His body
is tight and physically radiates heat that makes me nauseated. I can’t stand
having him breathing in my hair, his hands on my ribs as the helicopter rights
and he pretends to need to touch me to sit up.

Why pretend? I
have no power. He can do anything he wants to me right now.

DISCLOSURE

To all Authors and Readers: All books read and reviewed were received from Blog Tour Hosts as advertised, as well as Independent authors. I was in no way compensated for the reviews. It is my own opinion.